


Encore (The Second Chance at a First Impression)

by MissCricket



Series: Carver Hawke Smut Stories [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Broody Fenris (Dragon Age), Carver Hawke is a tender lover, Eventual Smut, Everyone deserves to feel like there's somewhere they belong, Fenris (Dragon Age) has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, M/M, Porn With Plot, This was supposed to be mindless smut, Warden Carver Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27393172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCricket/pseuds/MissCricket
Summary: Tumblr Smut Prompt: Bite me (Carver/Fenris, Carvris)orBoth of them have issues, but sometimes there's something there you missed the first time around.
Relationships: Fenris/Carver Hawke
Series: Carver Hawke Smut Stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990078
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	Encore (The Second Chance at a First Impression)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be smut. It's 6k+ words. Bloody hell.

“Broody,” Varric’s voice broke into Fenris’ contemplation of his wine glass and the elf looked up, arching his eyebrow at the dwarf sitting opposite him.

They were all in Varric’s suite in the Hanged Man, but tonight they were spread out across the room, some at the table, others by the fire, smaller clusters of groups, but still all together.

Fenris’ gaze automatically flicked towards the door, checking that it was closed. A force of habit that he had yet to be able to shift.

“Varric.”

The dwarf shot him a small smile and sipped at his tankard before leaning in, “I have to ask, out of curiosity...why are you so hard on the boy?”

Fenris felt his head cock to the side, another gesture he’d wanted to eliminate, as it had always made Danarius laugh and invited those insufferable dog comparisons. It made him scowl now, and forcibly straighten his head, “What boy?”

Varric nodded towards the long, heavily dwarven table, where most of their friends were aggressively competing over a hand of Wicked Grace. Near the foot of it was Hawke’s younger brother Carver, not participating but nursing a tankard in his hands as he watched.

“He’s not a boy.”

“Not anymore no,” Varric agreed easily, “But when we first knew him, before he became a Warden, he was.”

Fenris glanced at Varric sidelong.

“I trust you have a point to this conversation.”

Varric sighed at him and sipped his drink again.

“You’re harder on that boy than you are on anyone else, except Blondie and maybe Daisy.” The dwarf leaned back in his chair, “I was wondering if you’d realised the boy had grown up.”

“He has.” Fenris sipped his wine, “With that training he’s more dangerous now. That’s all.”

“Out of everyone he seems to be the one that most closely aligns with your opinions on Magic.” Varric rebutts, lips curving up, “I thought you’d be happier to have someone on your side.”

“He only warns against magic out of his rejection of his family.” Fenris snapped sharply, and Varric’s eyes widened, “Not through concern for the magic itself.”

“Is that what you think of me?” Carver’s voice was quiet, but Fenris heard every word like the ringing of steel on steel. Slowly he turned and looked up, taking in the abnormally large shape of the young Warden beside his chair, and then beyond where the rest of the group continued their game, oblivious to their conversation.

He met Carver’s gaze, and was surprised by the neutral expression on his face.

“Yes.” He answered honestly, and Varric coughed, getting to his feet.

“I’m just, going to...over…”

Carver slid into the abandoned chair, his blue eyes never leaving Fenris’ and the elf shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

The younger Hawke had grown up well, having lost the last of the youthful roundness to his face to reveal a strong jaw, and well proportioned aristocratic features. Both of the Hawkes were attractive, but Carver was striking, next to Garrett’s almost earthy handsomeness. Where almost everyone could, and did, find Garrett Hawke attractive, few would look beyond and realise that his brother had his own appeal.

They also gave off very different energy. Garrett is warm and friendly, impossibly charming and somehow charmingly impossible too. Carver’s gaze was sharper, more contained, more intense.

“So you think my concerns about Magic are because I don’t like Garrett?” Carver asked simply, blue eyes locked onto Fenris’ own, unflinching.

“I have seen little evidence to the contrary.”

Carver sat back in his chair, and his expression shifted into thoughtfulness, “I suppose that is true.”

Fenris stilled and considered him again, “You’re not going to argue with me? Justify it?”

Carver’s broad shoulders shrugged easily, “I was an arse back then. I had my reasons, but...I handled it poorly.”

The elf stared at him, and the blue eyes flicked back to him and held his gaze. There was a sincerity within them that startled Fenris, that made him unwillingly reconsider what he knew of the youngest Hawke.

“So your thoughts on Magic..?”

“Magic is inherently dangerous, both to others, and to the Mage themselves.” Carver’s voice was steady, “I think the Templars...were conceived as a concept to help. But the Order has drifted away from what they were meant to be.”

“So you think all Mages should be let loose on the world?” Fenris’ lip curled in a faint snarl but Carver’s head shook immediately.

“No. My brother...and Bethany, were lucky. They had my father, who was trained.” he rubbed a hand through his dark hair and Fenris followed the action with his eyes, “They knew what to expect...they were trained and watched over...and there were still slip ups. And...they had me.”

“You?” Fenris scoffed lightly, “What did you offer Carver?”

For a moment Fenris saw a flicker of something in those blue eyes, something that made a faint twinge of guilt vibrate through his gut.

“My father trained me for one reason.” Carver’s blue eyes met Fenris’ once more, “I was...in essence, the family’s Templar.”

Fenris stilled, “What?”

“Bethany feared her magic. She longed to be normal and her greatest fear was losing herself to a demon.” Carver sighed softly, “I promised to protect her. And my father...made sure I knew what that protection could entail.”

“So if one of them had become…”

“I would have been the one to strike the blow.” Carver’s jaw hardened, “I knew that, and so did my father. But...Bethany and Garrett didn’t. Father didn’t want them to be frightened of me...he said it was a terrible burden to place on me...but said that they needed to have a plan if something went wrong.”

Fenris sat back slightly, stunned, and quickly considering everything he’d known about the Hawke’s.

“You were always different. Separate.”

“Of course.” Carver shrugged, “I was a swordsman. I had no magic. If I stepped up and did something well...it drew attention to the family. But I didn’t mind it so much back then…”

“Why?” Fenris asked quietly, leaning forward slightly.

“Bethany.” Carver’s voice was quiet, “She was my world. Garrett was the big brother and she adored him...looked up to him but...at night I was the one she told her fears to, the one she talked about her hopes and dreams to. We...I can’t explain it...the connection between twins.” he looked down, and tapped his blunt nails gently against the tankard, “Losing her was like...losing my anchor. And after Ostagar...it was a terrible time to be adrift. It was either be crushed by the sadness or…”

“Anger.” Fenris murmured, and he knew exactly what that feeling was like. The guilt over the Fog Warriors, the crushing feeling in his chest, abated with fury at Danarius. The anger made the pain feel more distant. 

Carver simply nodded and took a gulp from his tankard.

“So...what do you think should happen?”

The young Warden sighed softly, “I don’t know. It’s complicated because no matter what system there is...someone will try to abuse it for their own desires...Mages with power will use that power for their own ends...good or bad.”

Fenris snorted, and Carver’s lips curled up slightly in the corners, “And the same is true of people who have power over them. Templars also abuse their powers over Mages...not all...but it does happen.”

The elf shifted slightly, “It’s hard for me to…”

“I know.” Carver shrugged slightly, “You have more reason than most to hate and distrust magic. But you do trust my brother, yes?”

Fenris nodded slowly, “I do.”

Carver gave him a small crooked smile, “We have a good system in Amaranthine. There’s a school for young mages, and they have a employment program...warrior mages can join the Wardens or the city guard. Healers have a well funded medical clinic. Ones who want to study magic in peace have their own wing. There are enough checks and balances to ensure there is no benefit to abusing the system. Helped by the fact that the Wardens are the rulers of the Arling...rather than an abusive noble.”

Fenris cocked his head to the side, internally cursing himself for the gesture again, “And it works?”

Carver nodded, “Yeah it does. We have a very low fatality rate. And a very low corruption rate too...blood magic doesn’t hold the same allure if it isn’t forbidden...or if you aren’t desperate.”

The green eyed elf frowned slightly, “I find it hard to imagine.”

The young man opposite him grinned, and leaned back, “You should come visit sometime. Danarius wouldn’t dare try to strike at you in the Warden stronghold...and if he did, Ephena Cousland would thrash his hide.”

Fenris couldn’t help but chuckle at the mental image, and considered Carver thoughtfully, “Maybe I will.”

* * *

Fenris came awake in the dead of the night with a shuddering gasp.

For a moment the world shuddered around him and then it settled, and he realised he was alone, in the mansion he had claimed as his own. But he could almost feel the phantom memory of lips moving over his skin, and a rough but gentle voice murmuring his name.

Slowly he sat up and rubbed his hands through his hair, growling slightly as the dream memory persisted, echoing on his skin.

It wasn’t the first time he’d dreamed in such a way, but never this vividly, or with such a viscerally powerful gut reaction of wanting. His thoughts about Isabela had been idle, simply a vague contemplation of her beauty and assets. Even his very few and far between thoughts about Garrett Hawke had been a distant contemplation rather than a real and pressing desire.

But now...

Carver Hawke haunted him.

The young Grey Warden had stayed in the city for a week or two before he’d had to go again, heading out of the city gates in the early dawn light. 

During that time, he and Fenris had had several more conversations like the one they’d had at the Hanged Man that night. They’d also trained together out at the Wounded Coast, and he’d been startled at just how dangerous the younger Hawke had become. Looking at his size, and strength, and the size of his sword, one might think him lumbering and stupid. But the young man was fast, and had an innate sense of the fight flowing around him.

And when he hit, he hit hard.

In the end they’d found out their fighting styles complimented each other. One swift and brutal, the other strong and imposing.

Carver had always had raw talent on his side, but the Wardens had taken that talent and shaped him into a weapon. And the younger Hawke had taken it, and embraced the discipline, and the place to call home.

A purpose.

Fenris needed one of those.

But that wasn’t why he dreamed of Carver Hawke. 

He dreamed of his large hands, strong but with a gentleness to them too. He dreamed of that small crooked smile as he ducked his head, smiling up through his hair. He dreamed of that mouth, and those thighs, and he dreamed of the way Carver’s blue eyes always seemed kind.

Closing his eyes, he could almost see the tall, strong shape of the young Warden striding through the Kirkwall gates and heading out into the bright light of dawn.

And he remembered the blue eyes as Carver looked back, and waved at Fenris..the only one who hadn’t already disappeared back into the city. He remembered the smile on Carver’s face, warm and fond...and all for Fenris…

He’d dreamed of him ever since.

And that had been 6 months ago. They weren’t going away.

So Fenris got out of bed, and headed down to the docks.

* * *

“You’re leaving us?” Garrett’s face was a picture of shock, and bewilderment and hurt, “Fenris, why? If it’s Danarius…”

“It isn’t.” Fenris shuffled and determinedly did not look at the abomination or Varric, who were both watching them, “I received an invitation and I’ve chosen to accept it.”

“But what if it’s a trap?” Hawke moved forward, bundling himself into Fenris’ personal space as he so often did, hand settling firmly on his shoulder, fingers brushing a lyrium mark and making him wince from the static shock of mana against it, “Fenris, where are you going? We can help…”

“It’s not a trap.” Fenris drew back firmly, “I trust the person I got the invitation from.”

“You...trust them?” Hawke’s brown eyes widened, “Fenris you don’t trust anyone…”

Fenris’ green eyes narrowed at the mage, “Hawke.”

“Oh just let him go,” Anders scoffed, folding his arms firmly, “He’s being deliberately vague.”

“I’m with Blondie on this one,” Varric nodded, “Fenris knows what he’s doing Hawke.”

Fenris nodded sharply, and determinedly looked away from Hawke’s hurt brown eyes.

It had been an unfortunate side effect of his current obsession with Hawke’s younger brother that he had begun to view the mage in a more...realistic light. He had seen with his own eyes the light jibes that the older man had tossed about his brother, not trying to be hurtful, but definitely trying to make the others laugh at Carver’s expense. There was no doubt that the brothers loved each other deeply, but there was an insecurity there too. Garrett was determined to be the Hawke everyone loved, and it drove him crazy now that Carver seemed less and less bothered about his games.

Hawke was a good man, and Fenris considered him a friend...but Hawke was dangerous too. Like fire, warm and welcoming, but always with the danger of being burned.

Carver was warm too, but there was a gentleness to him that Garrett lacked, a lack of assurity that made him more careful.

“Well, if you’re sure,” Hawke frowned, and turned away, shoulders hunching, “Come on guys, we’ve got work to do.”

“Hawke…” Varric scolded gently, as Fenris added.

“I sail with the tide.”

Hawke’s back stiffened and he turned back to Fenris before sighing again, “Fine. You’re always welcome here Fenris..I hope you return to us soon.”

“I’m sure he will.” Varric smiled but there was something on his face, something that told Fenris the dwarf wasn’t sure, “Come back soon Broody.”

Anders sneered faintly, but then he rubbed a hand over his face. “You’ll be careful right? I know we disagree on...pretty much everything but…”

He knew what the Mage meant. He and Anders hated each other...but he never failed to protect the other man in a fight, and Anders had never hesitated to heal him when he needed it. He’d never reported Anders to the Templars...for Hawke...but also because he knew it would kill the healer. Or rather that the Templars would kill the man. And for all he was exasperated by the idiot...he didn’t wish the healer dead.

“I will take care...Anders.” He replied stiltedly, and noticed a small smile on the other’s lips. He almost ended the words with a jibe about the abomination’s demon, but something stopped him. A memory of blue eyes, and a crooked smile, and a goofy little chuckle. He’d been unkind enough…

It would be a while until he saw the mage again. He could afford to leave him with kindness.

Just this once.

* * *

A week or so later, he fought down his nervousness as he rode his pony through the huge gates of Vigil’s Keep.

The blue flag, with the silver griffon emblazoned on it, flew above the towers and inside men and women walked to and fro, wearing the same armour, or similar, to the ones that Carver had sported.

“Hello there,” a friendly voice piped up from beside him, and he looked down in surprise to see a grinning female dwarf, a s shaped brand on her face, “You look a little lost.”

“Ah...no…” Fenris carefully dismounted and gathered his pony’s reins in his hand, “A...friend, invited me.”

“Ooh a friend.” the woman grinned at him, “A Warden friend?”

“Yes. Carver. Carver Hawke…”

Her smile brightened even more, “I know Carver, he’s a good lad.” she nodded to a man nearby and suddenly his reins were whisked away by an efficient hostler, and the female dwarf was swiftly guiding him to the doors into the castle, “Are you one of his friends from Kirkwall?”

“Yes,” Fenris nodded, feeling awkward as they climbed the stairs, “He invited me.”

The dwarf nodded, “I’m Sigrun by the way…”

“Fenris.”

“Ooh!” Sigrun halted in her steps and then a second later Fenris hissed as she smacked his arm with enthusiasm, “ _ You’re _ Fenris?”

“What-?”

“Sigrun!” another voice yelled down the corridor and the dwarf and elf turned to face a woman with raven black hair braided down her back, and catlike blue eyes.

“Ephena!” Sigrun bounced in place and Fenris edged away from her warily, “This is Fenris! Carver’s  _ friend  _ from Kirkwall.”

Fenris’ gut clenched.

“ _ What _ ?”

“Ignore her,” the woman informed him, her voice husky but musical too. She really was lovely, not conventionally beautiful, but with an air to her that drew your gaze, “Sigrun has a compulsive need to stick her nose in everyone’s business.”

“Hey!”

The woman smiled and offered her hand, “I’m Ephena Cousland, Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden and Arlessa of Amaranthine.”

“My lady,” he bowed his head, even as he took her hand in his, “Carver mentioned you. I see his praise does not disappoint.”

She grinned at him, “Very pretty. He’s mentioned you too. Sang your praises really…”

Fenris felt a faint stirring of hope under his breastbone, “He mentioned me?”

“Indeed.” Those catlike blue eyes, sharp and shrewd, ran over him slowly, “Often.”

He ached to ask what the man had said, but instead remained quiet, which prompted a smile from the woman beside him, “Come, you must have had a long journey. Sigrun, you can head back out onto watch duty.”

“Aw, Feena…” Sigrun sighed, “It’s so boring…”

“Then maybe next time, you won’t piss Nate off when he’s in charge of duty rosters.” Ephena smirked as the dwarf grumbled and trudged off, before she led Fenris down the corridor, “She means well. The Wardens are more like a family than a military operation, although you’ll be hard pressed to find a better fighting unit when the circumstances call for it.” 

“”I do hope it is alright, my turning up unannounced.”

“Of course,” Cousland shot him a small smile, “You’d be surprised who turns up at our door every now and again.” She led him up the stairs and pushed open a door, revealing a comfortable chamber full of rustic wooden furniture and warm furs, “This will be yours while you’re staying with us. From what Carver has said, you are a matchless swordsman, I do hope you’ll give us a demonstration at some point in your stay.”

“Of course,” he bowed his head, stilted but grateful to her too, “My thanks, Commander.”

“Of course.” she echoed his words, “It will be supper soon, I’ll collect you then.” She smiled back, and slipped out the door, shutting it behind her gently.

* * *

A short while later, after washing and getting changed into some clothes left on the bed while he bathed, Fenris waited uncertainly for Cousland to return. 

It didn’t take long until there was a gentle rap on his door, and he opened it to reveal the dark haired woman, who walked easily at his side down to the great dining hall of the Wardens. There she led him to a long table, where several figures already sat. 

One was a tall, long limbed man, with black hair and a hooked nose, set over serious grey eyes. Two elven women were in deep discussion further down the bench on the other side and last but not least was a familiar broad shouldered man, sitting with his back to them.

Ephena smiled as she strolled over to gently thwap Carver over the back of his head, “Hey pup, you have a guest.”

“Bloody hell Ephena, you can’t just-” Carver grumbled as he turned around, before his eyes widened at the sight of the white haired elf standing beside his commander.

“Fenris!” he beamed at him, that bright infectious grin that he shared with Hawke, but shared far more rarely, and Fenris took in the sight of him like a starving man would eye a feast. His black hair was damp and curled at the nape, blue eyes bright against the dark blue of his tunic.

He looked tall and real, and wonderful...and here.

And Fenris stayed frozen where he was, unsure.

The blue eyes softened and Carver hesitantly got to his feet, fingers lacing together before he lowered them to fiddle at his belt. “I can’t believe you’re actually here…”

Fenris coughed lightly, “I, um...decided to take you up on your invitation.” 

Carver’s smile broadened, and he grinned at him warmly, “I’m glad…”

They looked at each other for a long moment before Ephena coughed lightly, “Fenris, I trust you will be staying with us for as long as you like.”

The moment was broken as Carver grinned and Fenris looked over at the Commander of the Grey Wardens. Her catlike blue eyes flicked between the pair of them, and her eyebrow arched very slightly.

“There is no set date for my return to Kirkwall.” Fenris informed her, and the woman smiled slowly, before he urged him to take a seat beside Carver and slid in next to him too.

* * *

The dinner was an acute kind of agony, feeling Carver’s heat beside him, like a warm hearth fire, feeling his strong thigh pressed along his own.

Across the table from him was the dark haired man, with the grey eyes, and he learns that the man’s name is Nathaniel. He and Carver have an ease with each other that Fenris envies, but he learns quickly that Nathaniel had been the one to mentor Carver through his transition into a Warden.

“He was a right little shit.” Nathaniel informed him bluntly, when he asked about the young man's early days in the Wardens, “Questioned every order, disobeyed every order...used his smart mouth to drive me up the walls.”

Ephena laughed, “That’s because all of his protests had reasonable points. It drove you nuts that he made you question things.”

Carver grinned at his Commander, “I just hate that phrase, ‘We’ve always done it that way’,”

“You were a nightmare,” Nathaniel shook his head, but there was a crooked smile on his lips, “Still are.”

“Sure Nate,” Ephena teased, and there’s something there between the pair, some history or subtext, “I seem to recall someone else being a shit in archery lessons when he was young…”

Nathaniel spluttered at her, and the woman smirked in victory.

“Your markings.” One of the elvish women spoke up, her tone abrupt, and eyes sharp as she scanned his face, “They are like no vallaslin I’ve ever seen.”

Fenris felt Carver tense beside him, and he glanced at the young man, only to see him glaring at the elven woman.

“Maybe it’s none of your business Velanna.”

“Carver…” Ephena’s voice was quick to admonish and Carver scowled, tensing up even more, until Fenris laid a light hand on his thigh to soothe him. The muscle bunched under his fingers before they relaxed again and Carver glanced at him.

“They are not vallaslin.” Fenris answered, “They are lyrium. Burned into my flesh by my former master.”

Ephena’s eyes went round, as Nathaniel rocked back in his chair startled.

The elven woman barely batted an eyelid, “Then you are not Dalish? You do not follow the elven ways?”

“No,” Fenris answered lowly, “I am not Dalish. Or at least...I don’t know if I was before the markings. My first memory is receiving them. Whoever I was before...I do not know.”

The blond elf pursed her lips, and considered him shrewdly, “Interesting.”

“Velanna is a mage.” Carver informed Fenris quietly, “And a powerful one at that. And not afraid to use it to the fullest advantage.”

Fenris’ lips curled into a faint snarl and he turned away from the elven woman, “I have little time for Mages.”

“Magic is the birthright of the elven people!” Velanna snapped back, eyes flashing.

“Suffering is the only birthright for elven kind that I have seen.” Fenris retorted icily and then he felt Carver’s warm hand gently settle on his own thigh, reassuring him in the same way Fenris had done for him earlier.

Velanna opened her mouth to snap back but Ephena shook her head sharply at her, “That’s enough Velanna.”

The blonde haired elf whirled to her feet and stormed out of the hall, as Nathaniel sighed softly.

“I apologise for her,” Ephena sighed softly, “Velanna...has a very narrow view of the world.”

“Don’t we all.” Fenris remarked back and the dark haired woman gave him a thoughtful look.

“Come on Pup,” Nathaniel nodded at Carver, “Help me get everyone another round.” 

Carver scrambled to his feet, and rested a light hand on Fenris’ shoulder before following his superior towards the bar.

Fenris watched them go, his green eyes lingering on the broad shoulders in the dark blue tunic, and the young man’s other pleasing...assets, before he turned back to the table.

The instant they were gone, Ephena’s blue eyes locked on Fenris’.

“What exactly are your intentions here, Ser Fenris?”

“What?” Fenris leaned back slightly, surprised by her serious expression, and careful tone.

“With Carver. What are your intentions?” Ephena sighed softly and something softened in her face, “He’s a good lad. I’m extremely fond of him, we all are. So if someone were to misuse him…”

Fenris blinked at her, “You...think I plan to misuse Carver?”

Ephena’s face broke into a little grin and her eyebrows did a tiny wiggle, “Well you should definitely...uh...misuse him. In the fun way. But I just don’t want to see him hurt. He’s very...fond of you. You’re all he’s talked about since he returned from Kirkwall, and normally there’s at least a little smattering of bitching about his brother...but not this time.”

Fenris glanced over his shoulder where he could see Carver laugh at something Nathaniel said, looking happy and more carefree than he’d ever seen him in Kirkwall. This was his home, Fenris realised, the Wardens were his family now, just as much as Garrett was. 

He was beautiful.

“He...means a great deal to me.” Fenris turned back to look at her, “I have never...I was a slave.”

Ephena’s eyes softened even more, “You’ve chosen a good one then. He might be a right shit with a mouth that runs away from him. But he’s a good man.” then her eyes shifted and he saw a flash of shrewd cunning before it flickered away again, “And he’s not a Mage.”

“You see much, Lady Cousland.” Fenris remarked, slowly. He could see why Carver admired the woman, she was fierce and proud, but there was an intelligence there that intrigued him, “More than I think you ever admit.”

Her eyes crinkled at the corners, “I just needed to make sure you knew what you were opening yourself up to. You sailed across a sea, you entered the den of the lions...for him. I don’t think you would do that for a quick tumble. Or just to see our Mage school.”

Fenris’ lips quirked up, “I cannot promise anything.”

“No…” Ephena sat back, looking pleased, but there was a deep sadness in her eyes, something that echoed a lost love, “But I think if your...dalliance...were to end, you would be kind to him.”

“I am glad he has people to look out for him.” Fenris glanced over again and saw Nathaniel and Carver heading back over, tankards carefully balanced in their hands, “He complains about his brother too much...but there is an element of truth to his concerns.”

Ephena smiled at him and winked as Carver and Nathaniel sat back down, “I’m glad we had this chat.”

Carver immediately shot her a suspicious look, and shifted almost as though he wanted to place himself between the Commander and Fenris, “What did you do?”

Ephena beamed at him and reached over to pinch his cheek, which the young man swatted away with a disgruntled huff of displeasure, “Why, I simply wanted to get to know him. Fenris is a fascinating individual.”

She purred the words, and Fenris frowned slightly, until he saw the expression that flitted over Carver’s face. 

His stomach clenched, shocked as he took in the look of protectiveness in those deep blue eyes.

“Don’t play games with him Ephena.”

HIs Commander smiled, and for an instant those bright blue eyes met his in a faint wink, before she turned back to her young subordinate, “Don’t worry Carver. Your friend is safe with me.”

* * *

After supper Carver walked him back to his rooms, through the labyrinth of corridors.

“Sorry about Ephena, she can be…” Carver struggled with his words, “Forward.”

“She’s a complicated woman.” Fenris assured him slowly, “One who has lost much.”

“Did she tell you about it?” Carver asked quietly and Fenris shook his head, “Ah, well you’re right...she has lost a lot.”

“Including someone she loved.”

Carver shot him a look as they reached Fenris’ chamber door, “Are you interested? In Ephena.”

Fenris chuckled dryly, “Not in the least.”

He looked over at Carver and slowly took in the sight of him. The strong jaw, deep blue eyes under dark brows, the silky black hair that the Hawke brothers shared. The tall, broad physique of a warrior in peak condition.

And beyond the physical attraction…

For a short time he’d felt attraction to Garrett Hawke, drawn in by his confidence, capable skill and determination. There was a lot to like about the elder Hawke, but Fenris’ interest had quickly faded. Hawke’s charm seemed shallow after a while, after he saw the way the man expertly maneuvered everyone around him, and tailored his opinions to whom he was speaking. A born politician, a born leader...Hawke was someone born to shake up the world...and Fenris valued his friendship.

Carver Hawke on the other hand...he’d disliked him almost instantly. 

The boy had been surly, unpleasant and blundered into conversations with all the finesse of a Mabari at a stately dinner.

Out of everything in the world, Fenris had longed for family, for a connection to his past, a sense of belonging. And here was Carver Hawke, blessed with family and love, and he constantly bleated about how much he hated it.

Fenris had no time for such a worthless, stupid human.

That opinion had shifted little until that night in the Hanged Man, when he’d been forced to face the reality of the young man growing up.

Until he learned of the truth of Carver’s attachment to Bethany. Until he learned of the true horrors of Ostagar.

Until he learned of Carver’s duty as the blade in a house of Mages.

It was like the floodgates had opened and suddenly he’d realised the worth of the man before him. That underneath the rough exterior was a gentle, protective, determined soul, who had thrown himself into his new calling and found peace within it.

He envied that.

But that wasn’t why he was here. He was here for the man the young Hawke had become. The man who made the blood quicken in his veins. The man whose barest touch made his skin burst into flames.

Oh he wanted...he desired.

But it wasn’t just the flesh. He desired the man. Every inch, every flaw, called to him in a way he’d never felt before...and could not deny.

So he swallowed and added quietly.

“She is not the reason I came to Amaranthine after all…”

Carver’s eyes went wide, lips parting as hope flashed over his face, frozen in the doorway to Fenris’ chambers.

They stayed where they were for a long moment, before both of them moved as one. 

Next moment the door was slamming shut behind them and Fenris pinned Carver up against it, growling warmly against his lips as they kissed each other ravenously.

Carver’s large hands cradled him close, but he was careful to avoid the markings, and his mouth was warm and inviting as they kissed again and again.

He seemed to have no issue with Fenris taking charge and pinning him to the door, and so Fenris pushed even further into Carver’s space with a thigh between his.

“Hngh...wait, wait, wait.” Carver groaned and Fenris froze instantly before trying to draw back, “No...no...I just.” 

His large hands lifted and he cradled Fenris’ face in his grasp, “I just...wanted to be sure. That this is what you want. That I’m what you…”

“Carver…” Fenris gripped his wrists and tried to glare up at him. It was hard glaring at that gentle smile though, “I sailed across a sea for you. I had to eat fish.”

Carver’s smile was almost blinding in its pleasure and delight, “You do hate fish.” he tugged him into another deep kiss and the pair of them fell into each other, eager, ravenous. “Maker, I’ve been thinking of this…”

“You are not alone in that.” Fenris growled against his lips and the pair of them stumbled across the room, “You have been a torment, Carver Hawke.”

The man chuckled against his lips, then his hands cradled Fenris close again, his touch strong but exquisitely gentle. “Right back at you Fenris…”

They moved as one to the bed, but as Carver sat down on the edge, Fenris paused, hesitating.

For a moment all he could feel was the echo of the agony of the brands being burned into his flesh. For a moment all he could feel was the burn of Danarius inside him, the pain as Hadriana used her blood magic on his brands, all pleasure wiped away. So many instances of agony.

But then suddenly all he could see was Carver again, see those deep blue eyes that showed only concern, as his huge hand cradled Fenris’ cheek.

“Fenris…”

“I refuse to let them…”

Understanding flickered over Carver’s face, and he was gentle as he drew Fenris down to sit in between his legs, his back against the other man’s broad chest. Carver’s chin rested on his shoulder, as his strong arms curled around him protectively.

It could have felt trapping, it could have felt confining, like being caged. But it didn’t. Carver’s touches were so gentle, with no expectation behind them as he held Fenris close.

“We have time,” Carver murmured softly and Fenris felt the words feather against his ear, “Maker, even if we never...I’d be fine with that.”

“Would you?”

“Well I can’t say I don’t desire you.” Carver’s lips brushed a soft kiss to his neck, and he felt some of his tension flow away, “But yeah...if we never. I wouldn’t mind. That’s not why...that’s not the only…”

Fenris closed his eyes with a small smile, “You’re babbling, Carver.”

“I just want you to know that...you’re the one in control here.” Carver’s words were soft against his skin, and against his soul, “We’re a team. I’ve got your back.”

His lips had found a sensitive spot on Fenris’ skin, completely by accident. Utterly unaware of the pleasure, the attention to that spot sent rippling through the elf’s body.

“Carver…” Fenris could hear his voice had deepened slightly, roughened a little, “Bite me.”

“What?” the young man sounded surprised and the elf growled, “Okay...alright...I ummm.”

Gently his teeth sank into Fenris’ neck, careful to miss any skin containing a brand and the elf went boneless in his arms. “Mmmm…”

“Fenris…” Carver’s voice had deepened too, a light growl to it as Fenris turned in his arms.

After that it was a flurry of hands, until Fenris’ fingers were curled around Carver’s surprisingly prodigious length and Carver’s own hand stroked Fenris in return.

“Maker.” Carver breathed, and Fenris grunted softly in agreement, as he savoured the feeling of the huge hand engulfing him with such gentleness.

His forehead lowered to press against Carver’s and the young man looked up at him with an expression of awe, reverence, and exquisite tenderness.

“Carver.” Fenris felt his voice hitch as Carver’s fingers tightened around him, “Harder.”

It didn’t take long for them to race towards the edge, both of them so eager and hungry as they were. The fingers of Fenris’ other hand were buried in Carver’s dark hair, clutching at the silky strands as Carver’s sat protectively on the small of his back, holding them together.

Their eyes never left each other until the sweet wave of pleasure crashed over them both, Fenris first, followed swiftly by Carver.

As his pleasure hit him, Fenris suddenly saw something, some door opening in the recesses of his mind. A young elven woman with green eyes, only a year or two older than he, with a soft voice.

“Leto…” she said, heartbreak in her eyes.

And then it was gone.

Fenris stiffened in Carver’s arms and he looked down, taking in the sight of concerned blue eyes.

“Fenris?”

“I saw…” his voice failed him for a moment, “I remembered...my sister.”

“Your sister?” Carver’s voice sounded sharper now, alert, and protective, and when he looked at him again he saw even more concern, “The one that Tevinter bitch told you about?”

It didn’t shock him that Carver knew of his confrontation with Hadriana, so he simply nodded.

“Varania. She called me...Leto.”

“Leto…” Carver’s fingers were gentle as they carefully shifted them to lay down together, “Do you think that was your name?”

“I…” the memory of the memory was slipping away, and he felt panic claw at his chest, “Carver I cannot…”

“Hey, Fenris...look at me.” 

He did and was immediately comforted by the deep blue colour in them, “I know this is a shock...but it’s okay...we’ll figure it out. Together. The other Wardens too if we absolutely need them.” His hand brushed over Fenris’ cheek.

“You’re not alone.”

Fenris’ chest ached and so he pressed closer still, resting his head on Carver’s chest.

“Thank you...Carver.”

**Author's Note:**

> And if YOU want more Carver smut, you can request a pairing for one of the prompts located at.
> 
> https://misscricket.tumblr.com/post/633177274518241280/carver-smut-give-me-pairings


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